Wednesday, January 07, 2009

If I were Oprah

A lunchtime conversation between myself and my work buddy:

Her: Hmmm. Have you heard about Oprah? She's depressed.Me: And why would that be?Her: Well. You know, she's almost 200 pounds now.Me: So what's the deal with that? The woman has a personal chef, does she not?Her: Well sure. But she's probably like, "I want macaroni and cheese, NOW!"Me: True. Her: Plus her dog died. In an accident.Me: How?Her: Choked on a ball. It was the wrong kind of ball, apparently.Me: That sucks. So she's depressed about the dog?Her: Well I don't know. Can you imagine though? I bet her dog walker was, like, banished to an island somewhere. People are probably like, "Ooh, didn't Oprah fire you?"Me: Hahaha... Yeah. She probably had him killed. Her: Yeah. He's probably buried in the backyard.Me: Yeah. And no one cares because she paid them off. Her: Hahaha...Me: So why is she 200 pounds? Doesn't she have a personal trainer?Her: Yeah, but she probably fired them. "Fuck you, I'm not working out!"Me: Dude. She so has no excuse. I mean, I have no excuse, but she really has no excuse.Her: Seriously. She probably has a whole gym and a pool and everything. The trainer probably comes to her house.Me: Totally. If I were Oprah, I'd be working out every day. I mean, you're on TV like every day.Her: Yup.Me: And personal chefs can make healthy food that tastes good. If I were Oprah, I'd just have him make me some healthy shit that tastes good.Her: Mmmhmmm. If I were Oprah, I'd have a Starbucks barista in my house. Me: Sure, why not? Dude there's nowhere to park.Her: Just park right there.Me: You can't park there. Her: Sure you can. Just act like you own the place. I'll tell them we're with the management.Me: All right. Her: Stop turning red.Me: Argh. Her: Grande decaf soy vanilla latte please!